


Lovesickness

by Chopiano



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Angst, Character Death, Fix-It, Fluff, Goodbyes, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Illnesses, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Soulmates, Suffering, Suicidal Thoughts, This Is Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chopiano/pseuds/Chopiano
Summary: Martín and Andrés are both terminally ill – Andrés suffers from myopathy and Martín from a broken heart.But time will bring them back together, giving them a second chance.Afterlife fix-it with a happy ending(If you don’t want to cry, just read chapter 3)
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 22
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why, but I wanted to write something sad – so I did!  
> But in the end, I regretted it (my soft heart screamed for a happy ending). So, there will be two really sad chapters and a third one with a happy ending (because I’m weak). I hope you like it!

Andrés was lying in his bed; he couldn't sleep. He thought of Martín – his best friend – who always looked at him as if he was the most important person in the world, who was always there for him, who had done everything for him, who was always loyal and never stopped loving him.

He didn't know who or what – Sergio or the fact that he was dying – had opened his eyes; he wondered how he could have been so blind all these years. The whole time he had been looking for true love and didn’t understand that it was right in front of his eyes. But now he finally understood that he had loved Martín for years and that he was just too cowardly to admit his true feelings. He should have listened to his heart earlier because now it was all too late; he was going to die soon.

Andrés trembling had gotten worse in the last few weeks and he wouldn't be able to hide it from Martín much longer. Andrés was a good actor, but Martín knew him well; sometimes Martín even knew things before Andrés knew them himself.  
But he didn't want Martín to know that he was sick; Sergio was the only one he'd told it to because they had feared for many years that someone had inherited their mother’s disease – and he had.

Andrés could still remember how much his mother had suffered; how aggressive the myopathy had been. In the beginning the disease progressed slowly, but once it reached a certain degree of severity, it moved very quickly – and Andrés had now reached that point. He would lose more control of his body every day, he would be in extreme pain and nothing could be done about it, because it was incurable.

The illness was brutal; it didn't care that he and Sergio had to watch the painful death of their own mother. It was like a horror movie that just couldn't be turned off. It was horrible and the pictures still haunted him to this day.  
He wouldn't want anyone to see a loved one suffer so much and he certainly didn't want Martín to have to go through that too. Martín’s caring heart would break because of it; he would suffer just as much as Andrés – probably even more. When Andrés was dead, his suffering would be over but Martín's would only begin.

For this reason, he made a decision that night; he would thank Martín for his wonderful friendship and then he would leave him – forever. He had to hurt him because in the end, it would be the less painful option for Martín. He wanted Martín to remember him as a handsome, elegant man, rather than a helpless, pathetic lump of meat.

A single tear slowly ran down his cheek; maybe because he was afraid of dying, but maybe also because he just didn't want to leave Martín. He longed to spend every single second of his remaining life by Martín's side, but unfortunately, that was impossible.

* * *

"You and I are soul mates," said Andrés the next evening while they were sitting in their study in the monastery. Martín looked at him in surprise; this information wasn’t new to him, but it was surprising to hear these words from Andrés mouth. Martín gave him a friendly smile while Andrés cleared his throat before he continued speaking.

Andrés gave him a loving look to give his words more expressiveness.  
“Our relationship is extraordinary, unique, marvelous. What I've never told you before is that no one ever made me feel something remotely similar to what I feel with you – not even close. I love you; I really do." 

Martín got up slowly; he looked at him slightly confused, but his eyes sparkled with love and devotion. He had never thought it possible that he would hear those magical three words from Andrés addressed to him.

"Why are you telling me that right now?" he asked uncertainly; he was sure there was a catch and he sensed that he wouldn’t like the end of this conversation.

"Because you deserve to know the truth before I – go." He had almost accidentally said _‘die’._

Martín eyed him skeptically; although he was thinking hard, he didn't understand what Andrés meant.  
"Where are you going?" he asked naively.

Only when Andrés mouth twitched in embarrassment, he suddenly understood that Andrés was not going to the supermarket or on vacation; he was going away from him, leaving him probably forever and his heart tightened.  
Every person in his life had hurt and abandoned him so far. He had clung to Andrés for years and enjoyed every second of his presence, hoping he would never be alone again. A life without Andrés was simply unimaginable and not worth living.

Martín walked slowly towards him without taking his eyes off him. He was ready to fight until the last second, so that Andrés wouldn’t leave him. He knew that if he didn't win this fight, he would be a lost soul.

He gently put one hand on the back of Andrés neck and put the other softly on his cheek, caressing it lightly. Andrés whole body tensed; his hand began to shake slightly and he didn't know whether it was because of the illness or because Martín's touch electrified him.

"Are you scared? Are you running away from me?" Martín asked with a sad look, studying Andrés expression intensely. Andrés opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't; all the words he had thought about for nights were forgotten.  
The touch felt so intimate, so wonderful that his heart started racing with excitement. He should have followed his plan and turned around, but he couldn’t; Martín's eyes held him captive.

Martín realized that Andrés was struggling with himself and that he was insecure – something he had never seen before.

They were very close, their bodies were touching lightly but only very carefully. A few seconds earlier the gap had been a little wider and it seemed to be getting smaller every passing second.

There was no turning back; Martín had realized that in the blink of an eye in which he had placed his hand on Andrés soft cheek. When he stared into those wonderful brown eyes and they flickered expectantly, it gave him the courage to give in to his innermost desire.

"You don't have to be afraid," Martín whispered in a delicate voice and then something happened that Andrés hadn’t expected; Martín kissed him.  
At first it was only a light touch of their lips and Andrés didn't turn away; he couldn't bring himself to refuse him this kiss.

Their incredibly soft lips met and Martín closed his eyes, running his hand gently through Andrés hair. Martín's kiss was full of love and devotion; he could have continued for hours, but he noticed that Andrés was standing stiffly in front of him. Every muscle in his body was tense and he was already trembling slightly from exhaustion – which Martín had interpreted as fear.

"You are a coward" he teased, he wanted Andrés to relax and kiss him back.  
Andrés shouldn't do it, it was selfish and would only make everything more complicated, but he just couldn't resist; he really wanted to kiss him – once, for the last time but properly.  
The attraction, the longing was just too great to hold back.

He grabbed Martín by the collar of his shirt, putting the other hand on his shoulder, pushing him back until his back collided with the wall of the monastery – and then he kissed him passionately. Martín was briefly surprised by Andrés intense reaction, but he was the last one to complain about it. He pulled him closer, wrapping his hands around him, and Martín couldn't help but moan softly.

Sensations, Andrés never knew he could feel, flowed through his entire body as he sucked eagerly on Martín’s lips. He pressed his body even closer to Martín’s, burying his nails into his shoulder, running his hand through his hair. The kiss had inflamed a fire of passion and they lost themselves in the intoxicating feeling.

Martín’s tongue slid gently but demanding into Andrés mouth and he had never before felt such a heat rise in him; he was literally melting.  
Martín groaned silently and pulled him even closer – closer was hardly possible. The feeling of Andrés body on his was overwhelming and it made him addicted for more. He deeply inhaled his unique, indescribable scent; the most wonderful smell there was in this entire world.

For the first time in their lives they both felt whole; two matching souls had united and it was heavenly.  
All the emotions Martín had held back for so long threatened to tear him off his feet. If Andrés hadn't pressed him so firmly against the wall, he would certainly have fallen to the ground. A tear of joy slowly ran down his cheek; he was just so relieved that Andrés was kissing him so passionately, hoping that this would only be the first of many future kisses.  
At the same time Andrés had tears stinging in his eyes too; he knew that this would be their last kiss – regretting that it hadn't happened ten years earlier.

But the most intoxicating thing remained their colliding lips. Andrés tried to burn every single moment into his mind. Every single kiss was different, but always led to the same feeling of completeness. Everything made it painfully clear to Andrés that he would never feel so fulfilled again – not if he could never kiss him again.

He was holding onto Martín like he was holding onto life, but he had to let him go.

* * *

Every passing second, the voice in Andrés conscience grew louder:  
_‘If you really love him, you have to leave him now!’_  
And at some point, he just couldn't ignore it anymore. It was like a heavy load on his shoulders that threatened to crush him. When they parted briefly, gasping for breath, Andrés found his voice again. Martín was leaning forward again for the next kiss, but Andrés leaned back.

„Wait ...“

Martín froze on the spot and looked at him with big eyes, fearing that he had done something wrong; that he had ruined everything.  
Their faces where still incredibly close.  
Andrés wiped the single tear off Martín’s face, putting his hands on his cheeks and caressing them gently.

"It is impossible," whispered Andrés with a hoarse voice, giving him a sad look.

Martín looked at him with shocked eyes, that were already filling with tears.

“But-” he was desperately searching for the right words but found none; he was devastated. Actually, his tear-filled eyes said enough; they begged Andrés to stay.  
He would have given anything to stop time in this moment, to experience the last minutes in a loop over and over again.

Andrés didn't let him speak, he wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.  
“I'm sorry, but it's impossible. It can't work – not in this life."  
He gently ran his hand over Martín’s face to wipe away the many tears that were escaping his eyes, memorizing every single millimeter of Martín's face.

Martín wanted to convince him otherwise, so he pressed his trembling lips firmly against Andrés again. It was a final attempt to save their relationship in this life.  
But what Martín couldn't know was that parting was inevitable and that their relationship was indeed impossible. Their days together in this life were numbered; Andrés was terminally ill and in this life, they would never have become the lovers they were meant to be. They had been given ten years, but it wasn't enough – it wasn't enough because both men had been cowards.

Andrés turned his head away and took a step back, removing his hands from his face. Martín looked at him in shock, tears were still running down his face.

"Why?" he asked completely devastated.

 _‘Because I'm going to die soon’_ would have been the honest answer, but he didn't want to tell him.

"Because fate doesn't want us to be together," Andrés said instead.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he yelled, starring at him in confusion.

“It's better for you and it's better for me too. The two of us would never work."

"W-why? Didn't that kiss mean anything to you? " he stuttered.  
Martín didn’t give up, especially not after the kiss had given him so much hope for more. He was sure that he had seen Andrés deepest desire, that he had reciprocated his feelings.

Andrés was desperate; he didn't know what to say because Martín wouldn’t let him go as long as he still had a glimmer of hope. He had realized that Martín loved him too much to even consider accepting him leaving.  
But he was a ticking timebomb and Martín just had to be far enough away when he exploded, because otherwise he would go down with him.  
He knew he was going to hurt Martín, but it wasn't as bad as the future that would otherwise lay ahead of him.  
Telling the truth wasn't an option, he had to lie and break Martín’s heart:

“I really like women – I could never love you the way you deserve or you want me to. The kiss was - nice - but nothing more. I wish I could feel the same way, but I don’t and I never will – it’s impossible."  
The biggest lie of the century, but it did its job.

Martín blinked several times, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. Tears were inexorably running down his face and all his hope was shattered.  
At that moment Andrés knew that he had won, but it didn't feel like a win; it felt more like the biggest loss of his life – and it certainly was.

Martín was a complete mess; he was crying and sobbing relentlessly, gasping for breath. Andrés would have done everything in the world to make it stop, but he couldn’t. He had ripped his soulmates heart out and there was no way to put it back. He absolutely hated himself for being the cause for Martín’s suffering. Each of Andrés words felt like a slap in the face, and the worst part was that Andrés could feel every punch on himself too.

"I’m saying goodbye because I'm trying to spare you the pain you would feel if I stayed with you. You can’t see it now, but I’m doing you a favor. I hope that you will understand and forgive me one day!" Andrés explained, trying to make the pain a little less, but it didn’t work.

Martín shook his head, he didn't understand. He only understood that Andrés didn't want him anymore, that he wasn't good enough for him and would never be good enough for him either. He had been an idiot to even hope that Andrés would ever feel anything for him.  
Martín leaned desperately against the wall, which was the only support that kept him from falling. He just couldn’t accept that Andrés was going to leave him.

"I love you, but we have to part ways. Sometimes distance is the only way to find peace."

 _‘I love you’_ sounded like an insult to Martín – a stupid joke – a humiliation; he didn’t understand that Andrés actually loved him with all his heart.

Andrés took a deep breath and put on his hat before he said his final farewell words. But Martín didn’t even listen anymore, he was just starring right through him.

"Adiós my friend, I'm confident that one way or another, time will bring us back together." 

He desperately clung to the thought of seeing Martín again someday, forcing himself to smile one last time to maintain the image of a self-confident, elegant and handsome man. He wanted Martín to remember him that way, rather than the pathetic thing the disease was slowly turning him into.  
Andrés looked at him one last time before turning around, walking down the corridor and leaving the monastery and Martín forever.

Now Martín was also terminally ill, the diagnosis was: broken heart.  
He was crying and sobbing relentlessly, screaming in despair, gasping for breath as his trembling legs gave in and he fell on the hard ground.

Andrés heart ached too and he also had tears in his eyes. The further he got away from Martín, the more he could feel that he was missing vital parts of his heart. He was leaving behind the person who completed him, who fully understood him, who was like his air to breath.

Leaving was even more painful than he had ever imagined it. When he reached the exit of the monastery and the cold wind crashed into his face, he let himself fall against the side of his car.  
He was breathing heavily; hot tears were running down his already cold cheeks. He wiped them away with his trembling hands, cursing loudly as he relived every second of his last moments with Martín, realizing how much he had fucked up.  
It took him an incredibly long to calm down again, feeling completely dead in- and outside, even though he had still some months to live.

He kept telling himself that Martín would surely get over him soon and could enjoy a long and happy life, and that was the only thought that calmed him down a bit and made him find peace.

But Andrés was wrong; Martín’s future didn’t look like he had imagined it. Andrés couldn’t spare him a second of suffering; he just had made everything worse, ruining Martín completely and himself too.  
They were soulmates and could feel each other's pain deep within. Their connection was so strong, that it was simply impossible for one soul to be left alone on earth.

Andrés days on earth were numbered – so were Martín’s. With each day the myopathy took a piece of Andrés life, Martín's broken heart also took a piece of his.  
Their life and death were closely intertwined; their suffering may have had different causes, but the same consequences.

There was only one difference:  
Andrés had Sergio, who looked after him.  
Martín had no one.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sdfghjklkjhgfds I hate myself for writing this.  
> The next chapter is going to be intense, and I’m already sorry…
> 
> Here is my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Chopianoo)
> 
> I would really appreciate your comment!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The suffering of Andrés and Martín has many parallels; despite different causes, they feel the same pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments! Please don’t hate me after reading this chapter (but I think this is inevitable, so you probably shouldn’t read this and wait for the next chapter). Please hold your phone firmly in your hand so that you won't throw it against a wall at the end of this chapter.  
> My heart broke writing this and you will definitely not enjoy reading this. Stay strong! There will be a lot of suffering and death… (TW major character death!)

It affected his fingers, the whole hand, the arms, the feet and the legs; the disease slowly crept through Andrés body. While the shaking was light, barely noticeable at the beginning, it got stronger every day and at some point, not even his medication could calm his muscles; he was _trembling uncontrollably._

Martín was _trembling unstoppably_ too. He was crying and sobbing so that his whole body was shaking. The moment Andrés was out of sight, his legs eased and he fell to the hard ground. He was lying on the floor of the monastery, screaming desperately; for several days, he was crying, sobbing and trembling all over. He just couldn't accept that Andrés had left him.

In the last few days, Andrés was very _tired_ and he got quickly _exhausted_ ; the disease progressed rapidly. Sergio had insisted that he lived in his apartment and stayed with him. Andrés spent most of his time in his room. He drew a lot, mostly Martín's face because he missed him so incredibly. His face was burned into his memory, he had drawn it so many times that the lines drew themselves. Nevertheless, the brush strokes on the white paper couldn’t even come close to reflecting Martín's beauty – mainly, because over time his hands trembled more and more and he could no longer draw clear lines; at some point he couldn't even hold the pen in his hand anymore.  


He had a lot of time to think, wondering if it was the right decision to leave Martín. He knew he had hurt him and he felt extremely guilty about it. Martín's tear-streaked face haunted him at night, keeping him from falling asleep for hours. He felt an uncomfortable pull deep inside him and he didn't know whether it was because of his illness or something else.  
He was desperately looking for a solution to make it right – but he couldn't find one. Sometimes he was thinking so hard that he even got a _headache_. He knew that he would never see him again in this life, but he hoped that in many years – when Martín will have enjoyed a beautiful long life – he would see him again in the afterlife. That was the only thought that gave him a little hope, making him feel a little less afraid of dying.

Martín had a _headache_ every day. He drank wine from the monastery all day long; he always had a bottle on his lips. At some point he always passed out from drinking so much and the next day when he woke up, he had a bad hangover. The extreme headache was unbearable and he always felt sick. As soon as he vomited and had enough strength to pull his head out of the toilet, however, he continued drinking. This was repeated daily for several weeks, until the monastery ran out of alcohol and he had to go to bars.  
He was extremely _tired and exhausted_. He no longer slept, simply passing out when his body ran out of energy.  


Martín slowly regained consciousness as he was lying with his face in his own vomit on the floor of the study; he hadn't even made it back to his bed last night. When he woke up, it took him forever to have enough strength to move.  
Everything was spinning in front of his eyes and he felt sick. He tried to take a deep breath to calm down, but failed miserably. He immediately thought of Andrés again, that he had left him and his whole body was shaking while he cried again. He was pathetic. He knew that he was nobody without Andrés, that he couldn't live without him. Andrés was the only good thing in his life so far and it was an unbearable pain that he had left. With him all his happiness was gone and only misery remained; it was like a part of him, the most important and valuable one, was missing. Andrés had ripped his heart out and it was simply impossible to continue living like this.  


As he crawled past the mirror, he was shocked at what a gruesome figure was staring at him; a stranger – he hadn't even recognized himself anymore. His clothes were sticking to his sweaty body, dirt was deposited under his nails. His face was pale and sunken and there were dark circles under his eyes. He had a short beard, his greasy hair was so long that it fell into his face. He couldn't remember the last time he had a shower. He looked pathetic and disgusting; the sight of himself made him choke.  
He started crying again. He crawled to his desk and picked up the pistol, that already felt so familiar in his hand. He unlocked it, holding it with a trembling hand against his head, but he was too weak to pull the trigger – he was a coward, like the last hundred times he had already tried.

Andrés muscles cramped inexorably and the pain had become unbearable; his whole body felt like it was on _fire_. He felt the disease eat its way through him and even attack his internal organs. For example, his lungs were slowly failing and he was having more trouble getting air every day; some days he literally gasped for _breath_.

Martín had been smoking extremely in the last few weeks; when he wasn't drinking, he had a cigarette in his mouth. The harmful substances were deposited in his lungs and made _breathing_ increasingly difficult. His whole body, especially his liver, had been destroyed from the excessive alcohol consumption.  
One night, he got into a fight. Obviously, he had absolutely no chance and the two men beat him brutally; they just left the unconscious body in the cold alley. Martín thought he was going to die, but to his displeasure he didn't.  
When he eventually regained consciousness, he groaned loudly in pain. There were bruises all over his body and several bones were broken; his body felt like it was on _fire_ and every little movement hurt incredibly. The only thing his empty body could still feel was pain, and that was nothing new; pain had been the only constant companion in his entire life. 

The medication Andrés had to take ruined his appetite. He was never hungry, just felt miserable and sick all the time. At some point, he even had difficulty swallowing and he could no longer eat at all. Andrés was _getting thinner_ every day and soon Sergio could count each of his ribs; only skin and bones were left of Andrés once magnificent body. Andrés was so weak that he could no longer move. He was just lying in his bed and Sergio was taking care of him; he tried everything possible to make him comfortable.

Martín couldn't remember how he'd made it back to the monastery, but at one point he crawled through the front door. He had no strength to go to his room which was in the back wing, so he just crawled to the nearest bedroom – Andrés bedroom. He pulled himself onto the bed and remained motionless. He couldn't go on, he was exhausted, everything hurt him and he had no intention of ever getting up again. Martín hadn't eaten properly in weeks. He lived on pills and canned food; in the last few days he had even completely forgotten to eat because he just wasn't hungry at all. Accordingly, his body was in terrible condition and he also _had lost a lot of weight_ in the past few weeks; only a skinny, rotten body was left.

Andrés mouth trembled uncontrollably, he had trouble speaking and at some point, his whole face was paralyzed; he couldn't even pull his mouth into a small _smile_ anymore.  


Martín couldn't _smile_ either. He hasn’t laughed once since Andrés had left him; he couldn't do it anymore because he had forgotten how to do it.

Andrés felt that death was already in the air; his final hours had begun and he was relieved about it, because it would finally put an end to his suffering. His body was an _empty_ shell. A single tear ran down his cheek; he regretted leaving Martín and that he had been such a coward all these years. The last few months without Martín had been terrible, and he had realized that he needed him by his side; without him he just felt incomplete. So often in the past few weeks he had wished that Martín would just stand in front of him, that he could see, touch and kiss him one last time. Every time a wave of pain rolled over him and it became simply unbearable, he longed for Martín to be there for him, to hold his hand, put sweet kisses in his hair and whisper soothing words in his ear; but of course, Martín wasn't there. So, he thought back to their last beautiful moment together; he thought of their wonderful _kiss._

Martín also felt that he would die soon and somehow, he was happy about it because all his suffering would finally come to an end. He didn't care about anything, he just felt _empty._ His will to live was gone the moment Andrés had left him.  
He was in Andrés bed, and although months had passed, the bed sheets still smelled like him. Martín just lay on the bed, inhaling the familiar scent, crying because he missed him so much. He was thinking of the most beautiful moments in his life; there were only a few, but Andrés featured in each one of them. Of course, he also thought of their passionate _kiss._

Some people say that soulmates can sense their thoughts, and in fact, they could feel each other's lips on their own lips at that moment. The feeling was overwhelming; it calmed them down and let their bodies relax completely.  
Before they slowly closed their eyes, both wondered if they would ever meet again.  
_‘I love you’_ was the last thing they thought and immediately an inner warmth spread through them.

Their souls cried out to be together, if not in this world, maybe somewhere else – if not in this life, maybe in another.

_When Andrés took his last breath, Martín took his last breath too._  
_When Andrés heart stopped beating, Martín’s heart stopped beating too._

There was only one difference:  
Andrés had Sergio, who mourned his death, who buried and remembered him.  
Martín had no one.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh… I’m sorry! I know, this is horrible and there is no rational explanation for why I wrote this. Please use the comment section or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Chopianoo) to scream at me.  
> The story originally ended here, but if you can’t live with this ending (like me), you don’t have to worry… The next chapter will have a happy ending (-> yes, an afterlife fix-it).  
> Please let me know, what you think of the story (and how desperately you need the next chapter).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martín loosened their lips to look deep into Andrés' eyes, which sparkled fiery. And even though he was dead, he had never seen so much life and love in his eyes before.
> 
> "I love you!" they whispered exactly at the same time, as if from one mouth, and a cheerful laugh sprang from their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all the lovely comments and kudos. Here is the last chapter, I hope you like it. Enjoy!

When Martín opened his eyes again, he was standing in the garden of the monastery. Colorful flowers of all kinds were blooming and he could feel the hot sunrays on his skin. He looked at his hands; they looked well-groomed and the dirt under the nails was gone. He slowly moved his fingers; he felt strong and healthy, he felt – good. He hadn't felt this good in a long time, his whole body just felt light and carefree. He looked down at himself; he was wearing the most beautiful suit he owned – the green one Andrés had given him.

Suddenly, something tickled his ankle. A black cat huddled against his leg and purred loudly. He knelt on the grass and petted her head. It took him a moment before he realized whose cat he was petting – namely his own.  
‘Bella’ ran up to him when he was eight years old and she had been his best friend. But one day, his father had discovered her; he was drunk and violent as always and trampled her to death in front of his eyes.  
She was the only female creature he'd ever loved and she'd been taken from him, like everything else he had ever loved in his life. Fortunately, there was nothing more to be seen of the brutal kicks; she looked majestic, wonderful – all these years she had been waiting here in the afterlife for him and that thought put a smile on his face.  
He wondered if he would ever meet Andrés here again – he really hoped so.

He kissed her on the head, as he used to do every day. The soft fur tickled his nose and he couldn't help but laugh softly. He was just happy that he wasn't here alone.

Bella strolled into the monastery and Martín followed her. She scratched at the door and Martín opened it. In the room stood a man in a red velvet suit and short dark hair; Andrés. He had turned his back to the door and was pouring himself a glass of wine. Martín stopped in amazement; was it possible that Andrés was just a product of his imagination, of his wishful thinking?

* * *

Andrés felt great. He took the wine glass in his hand and swirled the red liquid around. He took a long sip and sighed enthusiastically. He raised his hand in front of his eyes, tensing it tightly and it stayed calm; it was no longer trembling. He laughed contentedly and turned around. Only now did he notice that Martín was standing in the doorway, staring at him bewilderedly.  
‘Oh, that's nice of my subconscious that Martín is here too,’ he thought, giving him a loving smile. It didn’t occur to him for a second that it was Martín’s ‘real’ soul, standing in front of him.

"Hello Martín," he said happily, showing him his hand. “Look, I'm cured – the deadly disease has disappeared” he laughed with relief. He was so infinitely happy that he felt as fit and healthy as he hadn't for a long time; he wanted to show it to everyone. Andrés just looked gorgeous, wonderful like a god.

Martín was petrified; his breathing would have stopped if he had breathed at all, but obviously, that wasn't necessary in the afterlife. He stared at Andrés in shock, he was rooted to the ground and couldn't move anymore; he hadn't known that Andrés was terminally ill – because he hadn't told him.

But he remembered Andrés once telling him about his mother, that she had died of an incurable muscle disease when he was still a child. And suddenly Martín understood that Andrés had suffered from this same disease, that Andrés also died and that he was not imagining him at that moment, that in fact, two dead people were staring into each other's eyes right know.

"Did you die because of your mother's disease?" asked Martín in a trembling voice. He was ashamed that he hadn't noticed that Andrés was ill. But above all, he felt betrayed; he thought that Andrés was his best friend and that he would tell him everything – but he was wrong again. Martín was angry and disappointed.

Andrés looked at him in shock, only now did he realize that it was actually Martín who was standing in front of him and that he hadn't imagined him.

„W-why are you here Martín? Y-you can't be here, i-it's impossible," he stuttered horrified, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He had come to terms with his own death a long time ago, but that Martín was dead too was a shock. He had hoped that he would have a long, beautiful life on earth, that he would be happy with someone else. He'd wished from the bottom of his heart that he would ever see him again, but he didn't expect it to happen so soon.

"W-what happened?" he asked. The thought that he had taken his own life was unbearable; deep feelings of guilt spread inside him.

"I'm sorry," Andrés whispered over and over like a mantra as he approached him. He put a hand on Martín's chest, just above his heart, but he couldn't feel a heartbeat. He put a hand on Martín's cheek; it felt unusually soft, like the softest fabric he had ever touched. Martín winced at the touch, but otherwise he was unable to move. Andrés looked him in the face and Martín looked so incredibly beautiful as never before.

"I love you!" whispered Andrés; the words just uncontrollably escaped his lips, freeing Martín from his paralysis.

Martín slapped him hard in the face and Andrés stepped back; shocked and frightened. His cheek didn't hurt; apparently, one could not feel any physical pain in the afterlife, but on the other hand, the mental pain seemed to be even worse – every emotion was felt even more intensely here.

„How can you? Don't you dare!” Martín yelled at him, cursing in his thick Argentine accent.  
His raging voice made Andrés flinch.

"Martín–" he whispered in a forgiveness-seeking tone, but Martín didn't let him speak.

“No Andrés, you shut your damn mouth!” screamed Martín in a trembling voice; he was furious.

“You can’t do this to me. I’m not your toy you can play with for your own amusement and then just throw away when you’re bored.” He grabbed the vase beside him and threw it at Andrés, missing his head by just a few inches.

“You made it pretty clear that you don't want me, that I dared to hope for something that is impossible and will never happen. You hurt me, you fucking destroyed and abandoned me and left me a wreck, although you knew exactly how I felt about you – how much I loved you. I gave you every little part of me! I've always been by your side, I've done everything for you and I didn't ask for anything in return! I was already satisfied that I was allowed to be near you, and you're just an egoistic motherfucker who fucking ruined everything!”  
Martín was crying relentlessly; saying these things out loud hurt incredibly, but somehow it was also a relief to tell the truth.

“You destroyed me, you broke me and you knew full well that you were going to hurt me and yet you did it – asshole! Just do me a favor and don't let me go through this again!" Martín shouted loudly, but his voice sounded very fragile. He turned around and continued scolding; there were already so many tears in his eyes that he could no longer see clearly.

Andrés was frozen and Martín didn’t notice how every word troubled him more and more. Andrés knew full well that he deserved this for being an idiot; not only in the monastery but also for the past 10 years.  
The worst situation imaginable was that Martín would hate him forever, that he wouldn’t understand and could never forgive him – and that was exactly what had happened.

* * *

Martín had his gaze fixed on the floor, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for a justification or even a backfire of insults from Andrés, but he stayed silent. Andrés shoulders shook and a low whimper sprang from his lips; only then did Martín notice that something was wrong.

"Andrés?" he asked confused as he walked to him. At the moment he had got to him, Andrés sank to the floor and clasped Martín’s legs tightly, while he cried and sobbed incessantly; he was a heap of misery.

"I'm a murderer, I killed you, I dragged you along with me to ruin, although that's exactly what I wanted to avoid" he sobbed. "I'm so sorry," he kept repeating.

Martín didn't like seeing Andrés suffer so much and he immediately regretted that he had offended him. He didn't want to hurt him, but he had just completely lost control because he was so overwhelmed by the whole situation.

“Andrés? Andrés, look at me," Martín pleaded, he put his hand in his soft hair and pulled them lightly.  
Andrés raised his head very slowly; tears streaked his face and Martín winced at the sight.

Andrés was described by most people as emotionally cold, and although Martín knew this was not true, he could never have imagined this sight; Andrés on his knees, weeping, begging for forgiveness.

"Andrés, I'm sorry - I didn't mean-"

„You are not the person who has to apologize. I deserve this and I am not contradicting you because you are right. I'm an asshole – but I'm so sorry for everything,” sobbed Andrés. He pressed his face firmly against Martín's thigh and tightened the grip around his legs; he never wanted to let go of him again.

"I'm so sorry," Andrés muttered, barely understandable against his thigh. Martín crouched down next to him and gently ran his hand over his back.

"Look at me – please." Andrés looked up and looked Martín deep in the eyes, where he found concern and compassion, and he considered himself lucky that Martín still felt that for him.  
Martín put a hand on his cheeks, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

"Martín–" Andrés voice trembled and he took a deep breath.

“I'm so sorry! I'm sorry that I lied to you in the monastery."

Martín gritted his teeth, unsure which of his words in the monastery were true and which weren’t.

„We are really soul mates and I love you with all my heart. I've been a coward all these years, because my deepest desires haven't been what they used to be for a long time. The kiss with you was the most wonderful moment in my life, I had never felt so happy, complete and perfect before. I had to think about it all the time and longed for more – for you. It was the only beautiful thing that kept me alive in the past few months. I realized that I need you by my side. You are my other half, my soul mate, the most important person in my life. My whole body longs for you, Martín – I want you and I need you! " sobbed Andrés. He put a hand on Martín's neck and was glad that he didn't turn away; yet, he could still see doubt and uncertainty on Martín's face.

"But - but you said that it’s i-impossible," stuttered Martín; he no longer knew what to believe.

“I just said it was impossible because I knew that I was going to die soon – I was terminally ill. You can't imagine how difficult it was for me to leave you. I really didn't want to do that, I wanted to be by your side forever – but I didn't want you to watch me die. I didn't want you to suffer because of me, you know?”

“I…” Martín started, but he didn’t know what to say.

“Please believe me that I only did this because I love you – because I believed it was best for both of us. But I was wrong, I made an unforgivable mistake and destroyed our wonderful relationship. I'm so sorry for what I did to you and I beg you to forgive me someday. I understand that you hate me, that you won’t see me again and that you probably can never forgive me, but I’ll never stop trying to make you love me again.”  
Andrés cried relentlessly, he pressed his head to Martín's chest and clasped him tightly because he never wanted to lose him again.

There was a huge emotional chaos in Martín's head, but somehow, all his anger was gone. He could already feel wet stains from Andrés tears on his shirt. He didn't want Andrés to feel bad, mostly because it made him feel bad too.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, Andrés. Only god knows why, but I still do and I missed you so fucking much.”

Andrés was still gasping for breath.

„Andrés, calm down. I don't hate you – I love you – I loved you from the first second and I will never be able to stop loving you. For the past few months I've cursed you, I've tried to hate and forget you – but it was impossible. No matter what you've done, I can't live without you; it seems like we belong together…"  
He was still tenderly stroking his back and Andrés calmed down a little. 

Martín's words had given him goose bumps and he let out a relieved breath. Martín pressed his face into Andrés hair and inhaled the familiar scent – he can’t even describe how much he had missed it.  
He was sorry for yelling at Andrés like that. He believed him; that he only wanted the best for him, that he only did it because he loved him. And he had to admit that it was not an easy decision that Andrés had to make; he didn't know what he would have done in Andrés position. He was just so relieved that time had actually brought them back together and his tears were slowly dripping into Andrés hair.

"I understand why you left me – It was fucking stupid, but I forgive you," he whispered in a hoarse voice into Andrés hair. Saying the words out loud felt good and right, because they were true. All tension left Andrés’ body and he just lay limp in Martín's arms; it was as if a heavy load had been lifted from his shoulders. He was so relieved and he didn't know how he deserved Martín's forgiveness.

Martín took Andrés by the arms and helped him to stand. There was a deep silence between them; they just stared into each other’s tearful eyes.

* * *

They stood exactly in the same spot as when they said goodbye, and from somewhere came exactly the music that had also played that evening.  
What an irony – as if fate, god or whoever wanted to say: ‘Try again!’  
And they gratefully accepted their second chance.

“May I kiss you?” Andrés asked timidly. Oh, how long he longed to finally feel those soft lips on his again.  
Martín didn't need words to answer; he took Andrés face in his hands, pulled him close and kissed him so tenderly that Andrés couldn't help but moan into the kiss; relieved and satisfied. Andrés wrapped his arms around him to pull him even closer and the kiss became deeper. It felt different, more tender, weightless, carefree, even more wonderful and overwhelming. They had never felt like this before, every touch felt more intense than usual.

Martín loosened their lips to look deep into Andrés' eyes, which sparkled fiery. And even though he was dead, he had never seen so much life and love in his eyes before.

"I love you!" they whispered exactly at the same time, as if from one mouth, and a cheerful laugh sprang from their lips.

Martín brought up a hand to cup Andrés’ face and they started kissing again; their lips found their way automatically. At first, it was just a soft brush of their lips but the kiss became quickly more and more passionate. They pushed their bodies as close together as possible, moaning loudly every time their tongues collided. Andrés buried his hand desperately in Martín's hair; he never wanted to let go of him again.

As their moans grew louder and they were kissing even more intimate, they could feel true love in its purest form. Both had felt empty in the last few months – now they finally felt complete again. Their two souls were united, they became one and nothing would ever be able to separate them again.

A life for all eternity, without pain and suffering, but with an infinite amount of love was ahead of them. 

Everything was as it should have always been:  
Andrés had Martín, who loved him.  
Martín had Andrés, who loved him too.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Did you like it?  
> I would really appreciate your comment! ❤️


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